


Change of Plans

by SomedayonBroadway



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 23:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16796404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomedayonBroadway/pseuds/SomedayonBroadway
Summary: Jack felt dizzy. Crutchie's head was pounding. Race couldn't breathe. Nothing went according to plan.





	Change of Plans

Jack felt dizzy. The room spun. His hands shook and his brow was lined with sweat. He froze. So many innocent eyes looked back at him. Maybe not all innocent. Brooklyn was everywhere too. And it was true, they weren't all innocent. But one thing was for certain. They all deserved so much better.

The prior night came back into his brain, taunting him, making him feel helpless...

_"We've been given discretion to handle you as we see fit..."_

Oh how they did. But the Delanceys never did care if their victims were misbehaving. They just got a kick out of seeing innocent kids hurt, on the ground, at their mercy. _Helpless_. And Jack's blood boiled as he stared into nothingness, remembering what they'd said to him and done to him the night before. He fought back. But there were two of them. And they weren't alone, either.

_**"Jack!"** _

Suddenly everything was spinning. "Crutchie..." Jack muttered. He could hear the boy's screams so clearly. His brother's screams. And it made his head hurt.

The silence was deafening. They were waiting for him to speak. To say something. _Anything_. They saw their leader standing before them. But Jack didn't feel like their leader. Not the one they knew. Not the fearless, motor mouthed Jack Kelly who'd gotten them into this mess. Not the one who was so stubborn nothing could move him from shaky ground. He felt like a little kid. A scared, quiet, clueless child. And for a moment, all he could do was stand there and listen to the anxious breaths and the small shifts of all the boys and girls in those seats.

Then something happened. The world slowed down when their faces came into view. The boys... _his_ boys... the ones he'd spent so long trying to protect. The ones he'd found one by one on the streets, slaving and wasting away, trying to get through the next few hours. The ones he'd held at night after silence was broken by screams. The ones he carried on his back through the snow. The ones he messed with and played with and laughed with. His _brothers_. Only... one face was missing.

He so desperately wanted to find that blond head of hair and those optimistic green eyes. He wanted to hear a faint click of wood when his little brother tried to catch up with him. He wanted to feel that hand on his shoulder right then when he stood in front of a crowd at a loss for words. Newsies from every borough had come. The media of New York was banned together in that one room. And he didn't know what to say. Not until a voice in the back of his mind started to whisper to him.

_"Stop the world, Jackie..."_

"Ya got somethin' ta say, Cowboy? Er is this just your way a' tellin' us you's is too coward ta finish what ya started?" Conlon broke Jack from his trance. Those kids were still waiting. And Jack suddenly felt more powerful than he had in the past seventeen years. He straightened up. He smirked. And he ignored the shadows looming over him. It was his show now. A hundred kids to one bull. They couldn't stop them all.

Shooing the shorter Brooklyn boy aside, the strike leader took his place center stage. There were thousands of eyes on him. It felt like the whole world was watching. But for once, Jack didn't mind. "I ain't no coward, Conlon," he started plainly, casually shoving his hands in his pockets. "But ya know who is a coward?" The boy smirked, defiance giving him a rush as he remembered the men holding cash and cuffs over his head. "Pulitzer thinks we will turn on each otha' fer the right price..." Jack announced, feeling the shadows tense. They were scared. He could feel it. " _Pulitzer_ is scared." He felt the sparks igniting. They felt the power rushing through the room ready to swallow their enemies whole. And while Jack wasn't sure what would happen next, he knew what he was going to say. What he had to say. "Pulitzer is a damn coward. And we's ain't gonna let 'im _push us 'round no more!_ "

It was fate that at that moment, he locked eyes with blue ones that stared back at him. They were filled with rebellion and excitement and Jack winked at him. He could see that spark falter, based with confusion and a bit of fear. Because Jack had winked at him like that before. And he hated to put his second in command through that again. But he didn't have any other choice. Because he was not turning his back on them. Never.

"Newsies of New York..." Jack paused. He could feel them closing in. He could hear faint footsteps. And then that sound rung out. That one that struck so much fear into every newsie he knew. The whistle blew. " _Get 'em!_ "

Chaos erupted from every square inch of the theatre. Screams were heard and shouts for them to get out or fight. Brooklyn's boys were on the bulls in seconds, tackling them to the ground and Jack ran. He caught sight of his boys, rushing to get the littles out while they still had the chance. And he saw Race, staring back at him with a terrified look. But all he could think about was Crutchie. And what Crutchie would say.

_"Fight the power, Jack."_

Jack grunted as he came in contact with a cop. He fought his way away, shoving the man off of him and he made his way to the door. Maybe he still had a chance. And if he could get back to the lodge he could finish what he started. So he burst out the backdoor of that theatre he loved so much, ready to meet the boys and have Spot come reprimand him for pulling such a dumb stunt. Then to plot with him their next move.

And then that sound broke through the crowd. The shriek of that haunting whistle. Suddenly Jack was face to face with his own personal nightmare. It grinned, handcuffs dangling from its claws and eye glinting with excitement. He'd known it was coming. A monster from his past. But he'd still had hope that he could bypass it. That he could get away. Now all his fears were realized as he was grabbed from behind and his arms were pinned behind him.

"Looks like I get to take you in after all, Kelly." Jacks heart twinged with sudden anxiety. But he didn't fight. At least Snyder's attention was on him instead of his brothers.

But only for a moment.

"Jack!"

"No..." _No... not Race... not again..._ Jack's heart was pounding out of his chest as Snyder turned around. So he struggled, only to have metal clasped around her wrists, trapping him. _Please, God... not again..._ "Get outta here, Racer! _Now!_ "

The boy was standing in the midst of a panicked crowd, struggling to hold back anxious tears. "Jack-" his voice broke with so much hurt but Jack couldn't just let him stand there. Not with Snyder advancing on him like that.

"Higgins..." Snyder growled. Jack watched helplessly as the boy scrambled backwards, not liking the way the monster was most likely grinning like a mad man. "The boy who had Mr. Kelly tied on the edge of a string..." and again that whistle was blown and Jack gave one more desperate cry.

"Get out, Race!"

The kid ran. Something he was good at. And Jack was left to lash out, kicking his legs out, effectively making his enemy stumble. The adrenaline in him spiked when that sharp toothed monster turned back on him. A claw grabbed for his neck and he tried to back out of reach. But he wasn't able to as faceless creatures held him still for the man to begin choking him.

"Goodnight, Kelly."

And then everything went black.

Crutchie's head was pounding. He could hear his heart beating in his ears. His body was hot and his limbs felt like iron. Gravity seemed to increase on him. Moving was out of the question. Noises were all around him, whispering and taunting him. The boys in that room were cruel.

_"I'll betcha a dime 'e don' make et through tha week."_

_"A week? I was gonna say tanight!"_

_"Shhhh!"_

It always ended with a harsh bang on the door and a shout to tell them to shut up. And the boy would jump at the sudden sounds only for his bad leg to throb. The chains would clang together, locking in a straight line, screaming at him that he could go no further. And then Crutchie would scream because those cuffs suffocated his bad ankle, holding him to the stiff bed that hurt his aching back.

Light was no longer seen. Only darkness in a windowless room. Only a musty old wooden room that he was trapped in. His eyes would no longer open. They were glued together and he didn't mind. All he would see if he'd opened them was a brown ceiling. Scratches were carved into it. Names, dates... pleads. He'd rather keep his eyes closed, hoping to dream of better times when the people he loved where with him, laughing and smiling. He'd rather pretend he wasn't rotting away in some prison somewhere. The same prison his big brother had nightmares of for years, for all the times he'd been dragged there. The same prison that he'd done everything in his power to protect Crutchie from.

_"Hold on, kid..."_

The voice was clear as day to him. Jack was coming. He had to be. They would win. They would do it and somehow soon, Crutchie would be out. He'd be out with his brothers to ruffle his hair and playfully shove him. He knew it.

"Don't talk back to me, _rat_!"

Crutchie flinched at the rough, cold, unforgiving voice. It sliced like a knife through the room of tense, anxious boys. And everything fell deathly silent. Everything froze. He could feel it. No more shifting, no more whispers, just the silence of about ten or so boys holding their breath and hiding under beds and blankets. And in that silence, the crippled boy found himself beginning to shake with every beat of his heart, anticipating the slam of a door or the cry of another child.

He heard both.

Screams made his head spin and he winced at the sudden noise of the open room. It was too loud. Deafening. It was raw and unfamiliar to him. A smaller child from wherever he was placed in this maze of a building. But that child had only been screaming at the sudden noise. What caught Crutchie's attention the most was harsh breathing and pained groans.

"I'll be back for you later." And the door was slammed shut.

That was when Crutchie felt his aching body twitch. He had to move. He had to find out who it was that had been thrown in the room with him. Because it sounded so familiar. All of it.

_The rally..._

He hadn't dreamt that... had he? Specs... He'd been at the window. He said something about a rally. Something about every newsie in the same place at the same time. And suddenly the boy felt even more nauseous.

"Crutch...?"

_Oh God..._

"J-Jack?" He prayed for his big brother's hands and comfort. Just for someone to scoop him up and tell him he was alright. Someone to stop the bets and the jokes and the pitied looked.

He could feel pressure on the side of his mattress as someone pushed themselves up to top bunk he'd been locked on. He could hear the pained gasps and the feel the shaky hands on his cheeks. But he could also hear the clanking of metal being pulled tightly, screaming at them that the cuffs held the power. And Crutchie held back a helpless sob.

"Wh-what... J-Jack..." he stuttered, fishing for words that didn't swim into his disoriented mind. "Y-you can' be here..."

"Shhhhh... it's okay, kid... calm down..." The words didn't comfort him. They only made him more anxious. After all, his brothers... his _family_ was in danger. And no one was there to lead them. No one was there to help them.

"Th-the boys..."

It was like Crutchie was in a drunk panic, though alcohol had never entered his system. His mind was unable to latch onto real ideas, leaving him scrambling for anything to make his best friend understand. He couldn't lift a limb without shaking and being shoved back down by the air. He felt powerless in a situation that had always been a nightmare for him. The Refuge. Dark and cold and unforgiving. Hell.

"The boys are gonna be fine..." Jack assured, likely offering him a sad smile. Crutchie didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't want to see the nervous green ones that would be gazing back at him. He didn't want to see the uncertain tears that would be building in the older boy's calming eyes. So he didn't. He kept his eyes shut, letting the fever take him over. Letting his body relax because at least he wasn't alone anymore. At least Jack was there. "They's got Racer n' Davey. They'll be fine..." Hands carded through his hair and he could feel the cool metal touching his burning forehead. "It's okay, pal... go ta sleep..."

So to sleep he went. He latched onto the words as the rest of the world fell silent.

Race couldn't breathe. He was sure he was suffocating. The rails were ice as he latched to them, trying to relieve the stress and anxiousness building up inside him. He couldn't move. His feet were frozen to the ground in pure, cold fear of what had just happened.

_"Let 'im go! Please!"_

He could practically feel the cold metal that was pressed against his head. He could see Jack dropping down to his knees because he'd done something wrong and he couldn't fix it.

That stupid wink that Jack had sent him was engraved in his mind. It was the third time in his life that he'd seen it. It never got easier to see.

The first time he'd seen in, he'd been hiding in an alley. Inside a crate, actually. He'd been nine. Jack was only a year older than him, but he somehow got it in his head that it was his job to protect the smaller, scrawnier kid. And when the bulls started chasing them, he hadn't thought twice before stowing Race away in a child's hiding place and facing the metal cuffs himself. He'd winked as they were leading him away, trying to send his friend a sign of reassurance as he caught sight of those blue eyes peaking out of a crack in that box. Race didn't see Jack for two months after that. And when he'd come back, he wasn't the same.

The second time, Race wasn't about to relive the hell that was living without his big brother. Jack screamed at him to run, desperate for him to get away as they pinned him to the ground. Jack was fifteen. And Race couldn't do it again. History would not repeat itself. So the boy stood defiantly, daring the bulls to come closer as Jack struggled and begged him to get out. To run. To be anywhere but there. But Race let them lock him up. Race let himself be taken prisoner. And he'd been immobilized without panicking.

But that couldn't have lasted forever.

Panic came with silence and locked doors. It came with darkness and harsh breathing. It came when Jack was dragged away from him. It came when he heard familiar screams and agonized pleads. It came when a Spider came charging into his room and grabbed him by his hair, tangling him in his evil web. Jack had done something wrong. Jack had fought back. And...

_"He'll pay for it, Kelly! Every time!"_

Race flinched. He sunk to his knees on his brother's sacred rooftop. He had paid for it. Time and time again. And if that Spider had done so many awful things to him, Race couldn't imagine what was being done to Jack and Crutchie at that exact moment.

"Why, God...?" he breathed out. When he was little, his mother used to tell him things. She used to use the Bible as a way of getting him to behave. She used to tell him crap like if he would be a good little boy, Jesus would be there and he'd protect him and make his life easier. He'd make sure things would always work out.

_Bullshit._

Fists pounded on the railing as Race cursed the world. The only protector he'd ever had was once again ripped away from him and he was left alone, with every newsie in New York looking to him for some sort of word. Some sort of command. They were lost. But not nearly as lost as him. After all, what the hell did he know? He was just Jack's second. He was just supposed to help Jack. Without Jack, the world was dark, uncharted territory that Race didn't understand and was terrified to set sail in alone.

"What the hell are ya doin' up here?"

A flinch wracked its way through the blond boy's body as he heard the harsh voice. Seclusion was what had been hoped for. That's why Jack always took him up there when he felt like this. When he couldn't breathe.

_"We's alone... ain't no one comes up here. Let it out, kid. It's okay ta be scared..."_

But Jack wasn't here. So things were different for the time being. And Race tried to take another gulp of air. He tried to stand, but he shook his head when his legs began trembling again. And the booming voice spoke again. "Race, right?" A nod confirmed his question. After all, words only got caught in the anger and panic in his throat. "My name's-"

"I know who you are," came the shaky interruption. Embarrassment may be the only thing that Race should've been feeling. But anger and fear still swallowed him whole. "What the hell do ya want?"

A scoff and a warm body next to him made Race grasp the frozen metal tighter. "Don't hurt yarself, Higgins. What the hell are ya doin' up here by yarself?"

"Back off, Conlon!" Race cried, paralyzed beyond belief. Nothing was happening. He wanted so desperately to get away. To _run_. But he couldn't. He didn't have the strength at that point.

With hands raised in surrender, the smug, smirking, Brooklyn boy cautiously stood. "Whoa, kid... settle down. I ain't judgin'. Just askin' a question."

Race's head of curls whirled around to see the king himself. The one everyone was so afraid of. And to his bewilderment, all he saw was a boy. A boy with freckles all over his face and a newsie cap snug on his head. The kid was buff beyond belief and had eyes that could cut through rocks. But he was a boy, none the less. A newsie, just like himself.

"Just leave me alone..." Begging was not something Race did often. It was something he only resorted to when he was beyond desperate for something. When he needed it. But the Brooklyn king didn't seem to care.

"Look, I get it." The world stopped in cruel realization as that sentence slipped and before Race could get out an angry, aggressive response, Conlon caught himself. "Okay, so I don't get it." To his credit, Race must've been glaring hard, because the other boy wouldn't dare go near him. "My brotha's don't go ta the Refuge much. But I know you's don' know what ta do. And by the way Jack always talks about ya, it ain't hard ya tell you's two is close."

Close didn't even begin to describe him and Jack. Inseparable, more like. Him and Jack had been friends for a long time. They were brothers. And Jack had done nothing but protect him. Race's world spun as he thought about his inability to do the same for him. He closed his eyes and let his head fall in defeat.

"But you's got otha' brotha's too. An' they's countin' on ya," Spot reminded gently. And Race was surprised. This was the king. The monstrous boy that everyone was terrified of crossing. And he was just trying to get Race out of the attack that he was taking on from his clouded mind. "Kelly would get his ass down there and do what he had ta do."

He was right.

"They's need a leada', Higgins. N' Jack chose you."

He couldn't breathe as Spot climbed back down that latter. He couldn't breathe as he was left alone again. The world was collapsing in on him. Everything felt heavy and tears tore from his blue eyes as he tried to take a proper breath.

_"Breathe, Racer. You can do this."_

Suffocated or not, Race knew he had to do it. It wasn't a matter of weather he thought he could or not. Jack _chose_ him. And so, with the little strength he had, he pulled himself up.

The newsies needed a leader. And Jack had chosen him. And Race could breathe just as long as he could hear Jack in the back of his head telling him it would be okay. Telling him he could do it.

And down the latter he went.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was a request that I really enjoyed writing and I really wanted more feedback on. It’s a “What if” situation and I really enjoy it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn’t, what you’d change or what you’d improve by leaving me a review!


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